


Call it Family

by 1848pianist



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles in a Wheelchair, Domestic Fluff, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Father, Hanukkah, Kid Fic, M/M, Meet the Family, Meet-Cute, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist
Summary: Erik (and his kids) invite his lonely neighbor Charles over to join him for Hanukkah festivities.





	Call it Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikeracity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [ikeracity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/pseuds/ikeracity) in the [secret_mutant_madness_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2017) collection. 



> A little later than intended, but finished! My brain is a bit fried from final exams and a residual cold, but hopefully this is still reasonably coherent. Enjoy!

“Dad! _Dad_!”

Hearing two sets of running feet, Erik has barely opened the door when Pietro burst into his office.

“Dad!”

“What is it? Is someone on fire?” Erik asks, half-seriously, as Wanda catches up to her brother.

“Dad, can we get a Christmas tree this year?”

Erik sighs. He can’t say he hasn’t expected something like this, not since they moved into an actual house, but farther away from Edie, who was always better at keeping up traditions.

“No, we can’t.”

“But _everyone_ has one at school. Some people have already put theirs up!”

Erik wants to roll his eyes. It’s hardly November. Couldn’t the neighbors have waited a little longer to rub Christmas in everyone’s faces?

He’s saved from having to respond immediately by Wanda crossing her arms and smugly informing her brother, “We don’t have a tree because _we’re_ Jewish.” Erik suspects that being able to argue with her brother is a greater motivation than preserving their heritage at this point.

 “Yeah, but we don’t have to celebrate Christmas or anything. Just the tree.”

“We’re not getting a Christmas tree,” Erik says.

“Why not?”

“Because—” Erik truly wants to go beyond ‘because I said so’ on this issue, but in the moment, he can think of literally no other convincing argument. “It’s just what we’re doing, alright?”

Instead of arguing, Pietro stalks out of the room, followed by Wanda a moment later. This is a bad sign, Erik knows.

As a single parent, Erik knew from the beginning he was inevitably going to drop the ball somewhere. As religious education goes, he hasn’t been exactly diligent in the past. They don’t go to synagogue, and they rarely celebrate any holidays. That’s partially due to the exceptional lack of diversity in this neighborhood, but maybe it’s time to make more of an effort. He certainly isn’t going to start putting up Christmas trees.

Slowly, an idea starts to formulate.

He finds Wanda and Pietro in the living room, Wanda doing homework, Pietro staring resolutely at his GameBoy.

“Listen,” Erik says. Wanda looks up, and he can tell Pietro is listening because his fingers stop moving on the buttons. “We’re not getting a Christmas tree. I’m not saying that just to be mean, or so you’ll be the only kids at school without one. Believe me, I wish we knew even one other Jewish family here.” He stops himself just before saying “Someday you’ll understand.”

Wanda gets the look on her face she gets when she’s thinking. “Can we celebrate Hanukkah instead?”

Pietro looks up and glares at Erik. “We never celebrate that, either.”

“Well…I think it’s time we change that. We’ll celebrate it this year.”

“Yes!” Wanda smacks her brother on the arm. “I told you he’d say yes.”

Pietro seems to consider it. “Do we get gifts?”

“This isn’t Jewish Christmas,” Erik warns. He sighs. “But gifts are involved, yes.” If they’re going to do this, they’re at least going to do it right.

“Okay,” Pietro says, going back to his game. Wanda beams.

*

The next couple of weeks are an exercise in managing expectations.

“Will we have a party?” Wanda asks after school a few days later.

“Will we have a party _every night_?” Pietro asks.

“We’ll see,” Erik says, having learned long ago that this is parent code for _I have not even begun to consider this._

“Grandma Edie has a party,” Wanda points out.

Erik does not mention that he has been planning to call Grandma Edie and beg for advice.

“Let’s invite her!” Pietro says.

“You saw her over fall break, remember?” Erik says. “I doubt she’ll want to come all the way over here just for a party.” Then again, she probably would. Maybe she could find some Jewish kids Wanda’s and Pietro’s age to bring with her.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have one!”

“I said we’ll see.”

Wanda frowns.  “That always means no.”

Inviting his mother over for eight days seems an increasingly good option.

*

The next day is mildly foggy, which means a two-hour delay for all of the schools in the area. For a foot of snow, they wouldn’t even get an extra hour, but with enough fog the whole district seems to shut down.

 Even with the extra time, Wanda manages to forget her lunch and misses the bus while running back inside to get it, which means Erik has to drive them both to school. He’s behind on work anyway because of the delay, not that it matters since he works from home. Regardless, it puts him in a bad mood.

As soon as they’re out the door, Pietro turns to Wanda and grins wickedly. “Race you.”

“You’re on!”

And they’re off before Erik can stop them.

“The car is locked!” he yells, uselessly.

Turning the corner to the parking lot, he watches, as if in slow motion, Pietro’s collision with a man in a wheelchair. Wanda leaps out of the way just as a stack of papers slide from the man’s lap, fanning out in a chaotic mess on the sidewalk.

“Pietro!” Erik runs the last few steps the corner. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Pietro says as he scrambles to his feet, no worse for the wear, but deeply embarrassed if the flush on his face is anything to go by.

Satisfied, Erik turns to the man. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

The man smiles. “Perfectly. These things are nearly indestructible.” He pats one of the wheels.

Erik looks sternly at Pietro. “Anything to say?”

“Sorry,” Pietro all but whispers. “I’ll help you pick up your papers.”

“That’s alright. Charles Xavier.” Charles shakes hands with Pietro, then Erik, then Wanda.

“Erik Lehnsherr,” Erik says. “These are Pietro and Wanda.”

“We’re twins,” Wanda announces, as she hands Charles one of the scrambled stacks of paper.

“Twins who are about to be in trouble for not watching where they’re going,” Erik mutters.

“Oh, no harm done,” Charles says.

“Except maybe to your papers,” Wanda says, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Charles just smiles. “Who knows? Maybe this dissertation will make more sense in this, ah…arbitrary order.”

“You’re one of the grad students at the university?”

“Guilty,” Charles admits. “Cell biology. And you?”

“Dad!” Wanda says, tugging on the handle of the car door, which is still locked. “We’re going to be late for school!”

“Yes we are,” Erik sighs. To Charles, he says, “I’m a parent, mostly.”

“So I see. Well, perhaps we’ll get a chance to meet properly when we’re all in less of a hurry.”

“That would be nice,” Erik hears himself say. He’s just noticed that Charles’ eyes are dizzyingly blue. “Right. Uh, Wanda, Pietro, let’s go. See you sometime, Charles.”

The conversation in the car quickly turns to Charles, and how nice Charles is, and whether they’ll see Charles again – all talk supplied by Wanda and Pietro, of course. Erik is concentrating more on staying on the road, because of the fog. Of course because of the fog, and not because of Charles’ smile, or his eyes, or his accent. Of course not.

“Dad. We should invite Charles for Hanukkah!” Pietro says suddenly. Ah. There’s the thing Erik had been trying not to let himself think about too seriously.

“We’ll see,” he says. Meaning, _I have already decided_.

Pietro and Wanda can all but sense it, of course.

“It’ll be fun,” Wanda says. “I’ll bet he’s never had real latkes before.”

Erik finds himself hoping that potato-frying is a skill Charles finds especially attractive.

“Dad!” Pietro says.

“What? I haven’t said no yet.”

“No, but you drove past the school,” Wanda points out.

So he has.

He makes a loop around the block and drops them off at the front, just in time for the first bell.

“I’ll see you tonight. Have a good day. Wanda, good luck on your test, and don’t forget your backpack Pietro.”

Pietro dives back in the car to retrieve his bag. “Don’t forget to invite Charles over for Hanukkah!” he says, clambering back out onto the sidewalk.

*

 “Hello again.”

Erik is startled to hear Charles’ voice again so soon. Not that he should be, since he parked accidentally-on-purpose in front of Charles’ apartment, even though there was an open spot closer to his own house.

“Hi.” He shifts on his feet, trying to think of some topic of conversation. “Listen, I’m sorry about before. We’re still working on…being aware of our surroundings.”

“That’s quite alright. Like I said, these are all but indestructible.”

“Did you get all those papers back in order?”

“Oh, yes,” Charles laughs. “They were numbered. If only the thesis was so easy to organize.”

“Right. Good.” Despite Charles’ conversational efforts, Erik can feel an awkward pause coming on.

Luckily, Charles is more skilled at averting it than he is. “Do you want to come in for a minute? I won’t keep you, but I’ve got more tea than one man could ever drink. Or coffee, if you prefer.”

“That sounds good,” Erik sighs, relieved.

“I’ve been thinking I ought to be more proactive about meeting my neighbors, now that I don’t live right next to campus,” Charles says as he unlocks the door. “Otherwise, I think I’ll exclusively be friends with other graduate students for the rest of my life.”

“I’m not sure I’m a good example,” Erik says. “I couldn’t tell you the names of my neighbors.”

“Well, you have children,” Charles says, graciously overlooking Erik’s inability to make small talk. “Please, make yourself at home. Did you want anything to drink?”

“Um. Coffee?”

Erik follows Charles into the cramped apartment kitchen and leans against the counter while Charles locates the coffee grounds and filters. The apartment is smaller than the one Erik moved out of before coming here, but filled with furniture he could never have afforded in university. Still, between the endless piles of books and the forgotten, half-full mugs of tea, it’s recognizably the dwelling of a student.

“College seems like ages ago for me,” Erik says when Charles hands him his coffee. “You’re making me feel ancient.”

“Well, I’m not quite as young as I look,” Charles says. “I just seem to keep going back to school the moment I think I’ve finished.”

Erik studies Charles’ face, trying to guess what he means. “Don’t tell me you’re an established professor somewhere, getting another master’s degree just to stay current in the field.”

That makes Charles laugh. “Not quite, although wouldn’t that be nice. But this is my second graduate degree.”

“What was the first?”

“Psychology.”

“Let me guess, Oxford?” Erik asks, joking.

Charles grins over his own cup of coffee. “As it happens. My sister accuses me of making a career out of collecting degrees.”

“Are you?” Erik asks, feeling a little in over his head.

Charles laughs. “We’ll see how this one goes.”

“You’re the reason we have credential inflation,” Erik says faintly.

“Probably,” Charles admits. “So, what about you? What did you study?”

“Engineering.” Erik can’t claim the kind of brilliance that gets you a degree from Oxford, but he knows his way around a machine. “Now I mostly do consulting.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“Sometimes. It means I can work from home most of the time. I get some time to myself, so it’s nice.”

“It sounds it. I apologize if I’m taking you away from work now.”

“No, it’s been a slow week.” Gathering his courage, Erik sets his mug down on the counter. “Actually, I was going to ask you if you had plans on Tuesday night.”

“No, I don’t. What’s Tuesday night?”

“It’s the first night of Hanukkah. Pietro and Wanda wanted to invite you, and…well, I want you to come too.”

“Really?” Charles says, smiling the brilliant smile that caught Erik’s eye in the first place. “I mean, yes, I’d love to come. It’s just that I’ve never been to a Hanukkah celebration. Or any event that had much to do with religion, actually.”

“That’s alright. It’s our first time celebrating it too. As a family, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

“You won’t be intruding,” Erik interrupts. “Like I said, the kids asked that I invite you. But I understand if you don’t want to come, I mean, we’ve only just met…”

“No, I’d like to come. Thank you for asking me.” He laughs. “Sorry, I suppose I’m just nervous. I don’t spend much time around children, and like I said, I’ve never celebrated Hanukkah before.”

“Don’t worry, Wanda and Pietro love you already,” Erik says. To say nothing of his own feelings. “All you have to do is show up.”

*

“Did you invite him?” Pietro asks as soon as he bursts through the door that afternoon.

“Did he say yes?” Wanda asks, close on his heels.

“Yes, and yes,” Erik says, turning away from his laptop. He’s hardly gotten anything done all afternoon, but for some reason he doesn’t mind.

“Yes!” Wanda shouts, and high-fives Pietro.

“What was that about?” Erik asks.

“Oh, Dad, we knew you’d never ask him over if we didn’t tell you to,” Wanda says, rolling her eyes in an uncanny impression of Moira. Stunned by the knowledge that the twins are apparently old enough to play matchmaker for him, Erik can’t summon a reply. For some reason, he finds himself wanting to tell Charles about it.

*

The rest of the week and all of Monday seem to pass agonizingly slowly, but Tuesday morning arrives before Erik is even a little bit ready for it. Wanda and Pietro are nearly bouncing off the walls as they “get ready” for school, partially from anticipation of this evening’s excitement and partially because it’s the last week of school before winter break.

“Please behave yourselves,” Erik says wearily, meaning both at school and this evening, even as his own heart is galloping in his chest as though Charles were on the other side of the door this very moment.

Then Pietro and Wanda are on the bus. For the rest of the morning, he’s left to reflect on why he thought that introducing his children to their family history and culture wouldn’t be hard enough without inviting a charming and attractive stranger into the mix. What if it all falls apart?

Luckily, Erik has become very good lately at locking his feelings away in order to get work done, so he does that until 3:30. Then the kids get home and it’s time to locate the menorah and the matches and start dinner. Cooking always relaxes him, so other than chasing Pietro and Wanda away from the latkes, panic doesn’t set in again until a few minutes before Charles is set to arrive.

Then there’s a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Erik says with forced calm – uselessly, as Pietro and Wanda are right on his heels.

“Charles. Hi.”

“Hello, Erik. And Wanda and Pietro. I hope I’m not too early?”

“No, you’re right on time,” Erik says. “We’ll light the candles when it gets dark.”

Wanda is already outside, staring up at the sky. “I don’t see any stars yet.”

“It won’t be dark for another twenty minutes,” Erik tells her. He checked. Several times, actually.

Turning back to Charles, he says, “I’m going to finish dinner, but make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” Charles says, smiling.

Relieved, Erik thinks that’s at least one thing he won’t have to worry about. Charles gets along with the twins as though he’s known them for years. From the kitchen, Erik can hear him talking to Pietro about school – actually having a conversation with him, not just talking to him like adults do when they don’t know what to say.

“Erik.”

He jumps, startled out of his thoughts. “Charles. Sorry, I didn’t mean to abandon you to the mercy of the twins. This is just taking longer than I expected—”

Charles smiles. “Don’t worry. I just wanted to ask about these.” He holds up a mesh bag full of chocolate coins wrapped in multicolor foil. “I hope these are alright…I was doing some research, but I wasn’t sure it would be appropriate to give money to someone else’s kids. I didn’t want it to feel like I was bribing them to like me.”

Erik wants to laugh. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. Those are perfect.”

“Oh, good,” Charles says. “Should I give them to them now, or…?”

“After we light the candles,” Erik says. “They’ll be thrilled.”

“Is the food ready yet?” Pietro yells from the living room, just as Wanda adds, “I can already see two stars! Hurry, Dad!”

“I think we had better go,” Charles says.

“Probably.”

“I want to light the menorah!” Wanda says, shoving in front of her brother.

“Hey!”

“There’s one for each of you, or you can do alternating nights,” Erik says. He had already anticipated this particular problem.

“Wanda can go first,” Pietro says, probably already figuring that the eighth night will have the maximum number of candles to light. Assuming they haven’t burnt down the house by then.

“Be careful,” Erik sighs, handing Wanda the matches.

With immense concentration, Wanda lights the _shamash_ and the first candle, then recites the blessing she’s been practicing all week. Pietro joins her, enunciating each word as if his life depended on it. Erik has possibly never been prouder of his kids, or more relieved that the night is going smoothly so far.

“I think Charles has something for the two of you,” he says when the candles are lit.

As Pietro and Wanda race to divide up the gelt, Erik says to Charles, “You’d think they’d never seen chocolate before.”

“It always tastes better on a holiday,” Charles says, grinning.

“I probably should have warned you before the prayers. That was a lot of Hebrew to throw at you all at once.”

“No, it was beautiful. I’m glad you invited me. Actually, I was planning to spend most of the holidays catching up on schoolwork, so this is a vast improvement.”

Erik smiles, about to reply, but the moment is interrupted by a loud clatter in the kitchen.

“Dad! We’re hungry.”

“That’ll be Pietro.”

“I can’t blame him. Is that homemade applesauce I smelled earlier?”

“Of course. You can’t have Hanukkah without it.”

*

Later, when the twins are fighting over the last latke, Erik manages to steal a kiss from Charles. The first of many, he hopes.


End file.
